


Hungry For More (Everybody Has A Hungry Heart Extras)

by orphan_account



Series: Pizza Is A Metaphor For Love [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Derek delivers Pizza, Derek is a Good Friend, M/M, Pizza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4713251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is smitten, Stiles is horrible at expressing his feelings, and everyone else despairs.// "I had to make a few stops first. There was an 18th birthday party. You don’t want to know.”<br/>The kid laughed, still standing there on the porch, “Mine was definitely wild, since my dad’s the sheriff.”<br/>“Yeah, I noticed the cruiser outside,” Derek raised his eyebrows, “You sure you aren’t holding a police officer inside and you’re actually a thief?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungry For More (Everybody Has A Hungry Heart Extras)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Some of you suggested adding a bit of context for this whole thing, so I'm definitely going to have a bit more fun with this universe. If I have enough content, I'll probably put it all together in order and all. For now, rejoice. I'm gonna write about the first time Derek goes to Stiles's house, matchmaking, Derek's adventures as Most Eligible Bachelor, and just general shenanigans.

_Open up your eyes now, tell me what you see_  
It is no surprise now, what you see is me  
Tell me what you see  


_-_ "Tell Me What You See", The Beatles

* * *

Stiles was _starving_.

He was starving _to death_.

“Daaaaad,” he whined, “Bring me food.”

The Sheriff simply raised an eyebrow and shook his head slowly, picking up some files he had to get to the station before stopping by the couch and ruffling his hair.

Stiles glared.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge, Stiles,” his Dad reminded him, amused, opening the front door, “Order something if you’re really and truly desperate.” He left, closing the door behind him.

Stiles lazed around for a while, mumbling about negligent fathers and not feeding children who obviously needed it. He refused to move from the couch, and he stretched, settling comfortably.

After twenty minutes, there was no denying it.

He was dying of starvation, and it was all his Dad’s fault.

Huffing indignantly, he stood up as slowly as he could, and laid a hand on the couch’s armrest, and told it, “I’m sorry I have to leave you. I hope, someday, you can understand I did it because I love you.”

The couch didn’t reply, but Stiles would swear he’d seen a tear.

He dragged himself towards the fridge and inspected what was inside.

Or at least, tried, but the smell of… _something_ made his eyes water and he gagged, closing it swiftly. “No leftovers,” he decided.

Stiles contemplated ordering Thai, or maybe just some Chinese food, but he kind of wanted something greasy and unhealthy, since his dad was getting dinner with Mellissa (he kind of hoped his dad would be able to confess about ‘going to have a drink with Parrish’. Honestly) and he could eat _anything_.

And then inspiration struck.

“Pizza,” he breathed, looking up, as if thanking the heavens, and dialed the nearest pizza place, one who’d opened about two weeks ago.

A girl picked up, “Hey, this is Reyes Pizzeria. How can I help you, hon?”

Stiles went straight to the point, “I need pizza. Um. The greasiest one you have. Er, please.”

The girl chuckled, “Sure, hon. Gimme your address?”

Stiles recited it like a good boy, and she said, “’kay. Give us twenty minutes and you’ve got it.”

…

Derek _hated_ Erica.

Well, not really. Erica was hilarious and sassy and cheerful and flirty and confident, and he couldn’t help but be proud of her most of the time. She was always willing to get out there and help someone, to kick some butt. He remembered fondly the third time they’d kicked her out of a gym for standing up to some weirdo or other who’d harassed her. He’d never regretted bringing her home one day, demanding his mom turn her, because she’d just had the worst seizure ever and she was kind and amazing and deserved _everything_.

But when Erica was pleading, hands held together as if she was praying, eyes wide, on her knees in front of him, he absolutely _despised_ her.

“Please,” she begged, “ _Please_ , Derek. You _know_ I need some help, we’ve just opened, and Isaac had to go grocery shopping because Cora, you know, your _sister_ , started a kitchen disaster! I’m on my knees here!”

Derek crossed his arms and glared, “No.”

“It’s just delivery! Just one night! It’ll be painless, don’t worry! Two or three trips, collect the money, I’ll even invite you to lunch this week!”

Derek glared harder, but exhaled, deflated, “Okay.”

Erica whooped, jumping to her feet and smiling smugly, “I knew you’d cave. I love you, Der-bear.” She went to hug him, and he scowled, but let her.

“No nicknames,” he warned, letting his fangs show a little, and she rolled her eyes.

“Have it your way,” she conceded, “Okay, you have to get to this address. I’m so grateful you have a motorbike now, you can’t even –“

“Shut it,” he cut her off, “Just give me the pizza.”

Erica grinned, and called out, “We did it, Boyd!”

…

The first delivery was to a tiny apartment.

A Japanese girl opened the door, eyes widening, and then blushed, “Hey,”

“Pizza,” he grunted, handing it to her without looking at her, and took out the change.

She looked disappointed but handed him some cash, “Name’s Kira,” she tried one last time, shy.

He felt a bit guilty, “Derek.” Was the only thing he said, and fled.

The second delivery was to an 18th birthday party. He…didn’t feel strong enough to describe the horrors he’d seen in there.

The third and last was for a decently-sized house in the residential part of Beacon Hills. He saw a police cruiser parked outside, and realized, startled, that it was probably the Sheriff’s home.

He parked the bike, took off his helmet, and walked up to the porch, ringing the doorbell.

“Just a minute!” a chipper voice called out, and the door swung open.

Derek was pretty sure his jaw dropped open.

Apart from the fact that the college-aged guy standing there was _adorable_ and _just Derek’s type_ , with honey-colored eyes, soft-looking brown hair and lanky frame, he smelled _amazing_ , and Derek’s wolf was growling inside, _demanding_ he take the boy _now_.

The kid looked startled and flushed, “Um, how much was it?”

Derek snapped out of it, and repeated the numbers Erica had drilled into his head before he left, accepting the money the kid handed to him, scratching the back of his neck. Derek handed him his pizza automatically.

He realized he was most certainly staring, and started to turn, when the kid blurted out, “Busy night, huh?”

“Why?” Derek returned before he could stop himself.

“The, er, the girl on the phone said it’d be twenty minutes. Um. And it’s been half an hour. Not that I mean you have to pay me back or anything. Just thought about um, small talk? Please kill me now.”

Derek smiled despite himself, and he gave him a bashful look, “Yeah. I had to make a few stops first. There was an 18th birthday party. You don’t want to know.”

The kid laughed, still standing there on the porch, “Mine was definitely wild, since my dad’s the sheriff.”

“Yeah, I noticed the cruiser outside,” Derek raised his eyebrows, “You sure you aren’t holding a police officer inside and you’re actually a thief?”

Still, his heart had beat faster when he realized the kid was most definitely _not_ underage, for some silly reason.

The kid laughed again, looking at him, “Nah. Stiles Stilinski, only child, ready to fight crime,” he mimicked a boxing stance, “Fight me!”

Derek snorted, “Yeah, sure, Stiles.” He had a name, he had a name.

“Hey! You have to tell me who you are. I don’t fight strangers,” the kid joked, but he sounded a bit nervous.

“I’m Derek,” he told him, and saw Stiles lick his lips.

“I guess you should go,” he offered, voice slightly shaky.

“Yeah,” Derek didn’t leave.

“Um, I really like this pizza place. Do you work there all the time?”

“Every day, basically,” he lied effortlessly, hoping that Stiles would call again.

“Okay.” Stiles smiled, shy.

Derek left.

…

The Sheriff closed the door gently, taking care not to make a sound. Stiles usually dropped after classes stopped in the winter, and his first day home was always spent more in bed than actually doing productive things.

He bit his lip, and thought of telling Stiles that he’d been with Melissa, that they’d held hands on the table, that she’d laughed at his joked and he’d kissed her before dropping her off.  He probably should tell him soon, or he’d figure it and be insufferable about it.

The lights were off, but when he walked in, Stiles was still awake, sitting on the couch, a dreamy expression on his face, staring at his laptop.

“Stiles?” he asked, incredulously.

“Dad!” Stiles startled, looking at him, “Hey!” his voice was way too high, “Do you like pizza, dad? I sure like pizza! Pizza is awesome, isn’t it?”

The Sheriff just sighed. Sometimes, being Stiles’s father was too complicated.

…

“Erica,” Derek knew he’d regret this, “If this address calls for a delivery, I’ll take it.”

Erica grinned, “Oh, my. See something you like?”

“Yes,” he growled, “But don’t you _dare_ tell Laura, or I’ll gladly share the story of _why_ she found you burning her sheets that one time.”

Erica paled, “I’ll keep quiet,” she vowed, and then smirked, “He cute, then?”

Derek groaned, slamming his head against the table twice, and then sighing, “He’s perfect.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.  
> -thankyouforexisting


End file.
